


Sunrise and Your Sins

by 2amEuphoria



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Heavy Angst, Other, Psychological Trauma, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Trauma, family trauma, unexpected death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22105525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2amEuphoria/pseuds/2amEuphoria
Summary: Multi-chapter fic, my version of Dani rescuing Malcolm and how they handle the aftermath of yet another trauma together.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell
Comments: 82
Kudos: 135





	1. 1. Come Find Me

**Author's Note:**

> _“I fall, I fall  
>  Deep within never  
> I call, I call  
> Baby, come find me” _
> 
> -Emile Haynie ft. Lykke Li & Romy, “Come Find Me”

They pass trees, and rivers, and road signs. A disheveled house here and there. They don’t register to her. She thinks of nothing-nothing, except him.

The bulletproof vest traps her lungs, holding in her panic. The second she finds him and shoots that other bastard dead (if someone else hasn’t already), she’s taking it off. She wants the weight of his living, breathing body against her chest, not Kevlar.

He has to be alive. He’s survived everything he’s gotten himself into since she’s known him. _And there must’ve been countless other situations even before then,_ she thinks as her eyes dart to the Special Agent in the passenger seat diagonally in front of her.

As if she knew Dani was thinking of her, Colette’s eyes gaze into hers from the rearview mirror. “You alright, Detective Powell?” She asks.

“I’m fine,” she retorts, though she changes her tone after a concerned glance from JT. “Sorry, just have a bit of a headache.”

Colette raises an eyebrow. “One of the local officers can take you home when we stop, if you’d like.”

“No- No need. I’ll be okay.” Her voice is betraying her, revealing her hand. _So much for having a poker face._

“Well soon enough, you’ll have one less headache to worry about,” Colette sneers, turning towards her window as she speaks.

JT looks like he’s about unclip his seatbelt and jump out the side door.

“Let’s just...” Dani sighs. “Let’s just find him first, okay?”

“Of course.” Colette’s smile is polite, but her tiger eyes threaten Dani, demanding submission. She stares back at the SA, holding her ground.

_________________

She seeks out Gil when they arrive. She stands close to him, the way a child would stand near their parent at a crowded party filled with other adults. His physical proximity makes her feel a little less spooked.

She nearly jumps three feet away when he pats her shoulder, sensing the panicked energy radiating off of her. He immediately apologizes, but it’s too late, because Colette’s staring at them now-more specifically, at Dani. It’s a silent battle of wills between brown eyes before it ends in a stalemate, Colette turning back to other members of her team. Dani forgets to breathe until they all start moving. 

“This isn't the first time I've done this, you know.” She doesn’t even realize he’s talking to her until she turns and sees him looking at her as they walk.

“What do you mean? Go looking for a kidnapping victim, or look for Bright when he was missing?”

“Technically, both.” He sighs. “Once he went missing during the middle of a horrible daytime winter storm. Skipped school. Jessica was frantic. I found him in a planetarium, of all places.” He laughs, shaking his head and looking at the ground. “Typical him.”

The crunching leaves beneath their feet was the only sound between them before she spoke again. “Why are you telling me this?”

He offered her a soft smile. “Just don’t lose hope, okay?”

“Powell? Tarmel? I want you both up here with me for a moment,” Colette’s order kept Dani from properly thanking Gil, but she knew he accepted her quick nod towards him just the same.

Before she makes it to the Special Agent, she turns around, calling Gil's attention once more.

“Did you ever find the other kidnapping victims? The ones you've looked for before? Alive?”

He doesn't respond, but the way the light leaves his eyes gives her the answer she doesn't need to hear to believe.

_________________

“I want you both behind me. The _whole_ time. Do you understand?”

JT nods. Dani blinks. Colette’s gaze is seething towards her- not that she cares at this point. 

They’re in the cabin at last. She prays to any deity that’ll listen that he’s in there too.

Everywhere Colette’s flashlight shines, Dani looks in the nearby dark corners, her eyes straining for any clue, any sign. She doesn’t trust the Special Agent’s judgment; Colette is looking for him as a suspect, she’s looking for him as a survivor. 

More members of the task force flood into the cabin, leaving more stones unturned, but more chances for her to separate herself from Colette. As the three of them examine the tiny kitchen area, she notices empty spaces for butcher knives in a knife block on the countertop, and her stomach sinks. Colette stares at the knife block as evidence; she sees it as a reason to fear for his life.

She makes up her mind, and waits for Colette to be distracted enough to make her move.

They haven’t checked the basement yet. She knows one exists- she noticed it as they had circled the perimeter. Everyone must’ve been waiting for Colette’s orders before entering, but not her. Bright could be on the verge of death down there, and if they spent another five minutes gathering evidence for her bullshit crusade against him...

She could say she’s not sure what’s come over her to make her want to disobey orders, but that wouldn’t be true. 

She’s gone rogue because she knows he would do the same for her.

She steps backwards- 1, 2, 3 paces away from Colette. JT gives her a look-the same look he’d give Bright before he was about to do something stupid.

JT knows.

One of the open windows in the cabin betrays the sound of rustling outside. Everyone’s guns spin around.

Colette’s hellbent on being the first one out the front door. Dani finds what everyone else must’ve assumed was a hall closet and slips away down the stairs.


	2. 2. Dusk till Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“But you'll never be alone  
>  I'll be with you from dusk till dawn  
> Baby, I'm right here  
> I'll hold you when things go wrong  
> I'll be with you from dusk till dawn  
> I'll be with you from dusk till dawn  
> Baby, I'm right here” _
> 
> -ZAYN ft. Sia, “Dusk till Dawn”

Her senses are overwhelmed by blood. The sound of her blood roaring in her ears, and the smell of someone else’s blood inundating her nose.

Dani’s vision struggles to focus in the dim light. She’s surprised she’s even made it this far down the stairwell without tripping over herself. She almost face-plants when she mistakes the floor for another step to go down.

She’s in a hallway, with a door on the opposite end-that much she can see. She presses herself against a wall, her gun leading the way in front of her, side-stepping closer and closer before she notices that one of her jacket sleeves feels wet.

 _What the fuck?_ She doesn’t want to know, but curiosity becomes her. She touches the viscous substance with a few fingertips and brings it to her nose. 

Her eyes prick with tears when she realizes it’s exactly what she’s been smelling the whole time. She _knows_ it’s not hers, and likely not Paul Lazar’s (or whatever the hell the perp’s name is; like she cares, anyway).

Dani slinks forward, even more cautious this time, suddenly worried about bumping against something-or someone-as she makes her way to the door.

 _You’re okay,_ she tells herself. _He’s okay._

_Please be okay, please be okay..._

Her side comes in contact with the door. She fumbles around for the knob, searching for seconds that feel like hours before finally grasping it. She swallows the urge to vomit as she turns the knob, opening the door.  
_________________

“I’m telling you, Swanson, it was probably just a deer. We can’t find anything.”

“That’s because you’re looking for an ‘anything’ not an _‘anyone,’”_ Colette barks at a member of her team. “Look behind and around trees, in dug-out spots around rocks. Use your heads. That sounded _human,_ not like an animal.” She storms off.

From his spot on the cabin’s porch, Gil raises his eyebrows, shakes his head. Maybe Bright was truly justified in his opinions of her.

He senses someone’s presence behind him, and turns to see JT.

“She’s so consumed finding red herrings that she forgot about you and Powell, huh?” He lets out a breathy laugh.

“Boss,” JT’s voice low and serious. Gil’s face immediately changes. “I can’t find Dani. She snuck away.”  
_________________

She never saw her mother when she died. The wake had a closed casket. As a child, she assumed it was to keep her and her siblings from being traumatized at the sight of their mother “permanently sleeping.” She wouldn’t know until later that it was because her body was so mangled from the accident that not even makeup could make her look peaceful. She went six feet into the ground with her face trapped in an irreversible grimace.

As she turns the knob and forces the door open, she realizes that even now, at 25, she’s not ready to see that kind of damage on a body, on _anyone’s_ body. Maybe she’s overthinking what condition he’s in, but anyone sadistic enough to trail their victim’s blood along a hallway wall could be capable of anything. 

The room’s lit- too well-lit, because of floodlights pointed directly at the door. She nearly shoots blindly into the air before she moves out of the way, throwing her back against the concrete wall for protection as she adjusts to her surroundings.

That’s when she sees him.

She’s seen him with a gun pointed to his head. Seen him writhing in her arms after a poisonous snake bite. Even seen him after he was trapped in a turnstile. But never like this.

He’s crumpled on the ground, back turned to her, nearly wrapped in the fetal position- or it looks like he would be, if it hadn’t been for the blood stain on the side of his shirt, hiding what was likely a gruesome wound underneath. He’s barefoot, his hair disheveled and matted with even more blood.

She bolts towards him. “Bright! _Bright!”_

She sees him startle, trying to lift himself up from his core but drooping back pathetically against the floor. Within seconds she’s at his side.

“Bright- Jesus- it’s me, it’s Dani, I’m here, I’ve got you, I’ve got you...” She pulls him into her lap and his head rolls until it rests against her stomach, staining the bottom of her shirt with blood from his forehead. 

“Bright, Bright! _Malcolm!_ Wake up!”

His eyes weakly open to stare at the fabric of her shirt. She turns his head to look at her, and his eyes widen when he seems to register her face. His breath quickens into rasping gasps and he tries to sit up, to wrap his arms around her waist. He almost falls back but she’s right there, catching him, lifting him up. His wrists are trapped in handcuffs, so he wraps one arm around her in a vice grip, the other hand balled up against her chest. Her arms are around him as well, though her hands are too busy trying to gently roam his body to assess his injuries.

“I’m here, I’m here,” she squeaks through sobs. The hand of his against her chest starts shaking, so she takes it in one of her own. “You’re okay now; I’m here.” 

“Dani...” he croaks, finally speaking.

“Yes, it’s me, it’s really me Malcolm,” she speaks through her tears. She feels their ears touching as he rests his head against the crook of her neck. He’s warm, feverish, but he’s _alive._ “I’m here,” she murmurs, taking his shaking head and kissing it. “You’re safe, you’re safe.”

“You found me...” he whimpers; he’s about to cry, too.

“I did. I did. And I’m gonna beat your ass as soon as you’re healed and home, but yes, I did.”

She pulls back, trying to assess his front; she still couldn’t find where that wound she saw was on his body. Terrified, he tries to pull her closer, so she gently keeps a hand on his chest, trying to draw him back. “No- no, wait, I need to check you. Where are you bleeding from?” 

She traces her fingertips lightly across his stomach. When she reaches a spot near his navel on his right side he winces and tries to yank her hand away. “There? You’re bleeding from there?” She asks. “What happened? How bad-”

“D-Dani, uncuff me.”

“Where are the keys?” She looks frantically around before spotting them.

She was so focused on getting to him, she didn’t notice the camcorder on a tripod a few feet away, the lens glaring down at them. The keys are hanging from the handle- Lazar must’ve realized Malcolm was too weak to sit up, let alone crawl over and reach the keys, so he could afford to be careless.

“That bastard,” Dani growls. “When I get my hands on him, I swear, I’ll kill him, I’ll fucking-”

“Dani, please uncuff me.” His lungs are exhausted trying to force the words out.

She sticks a foot out towards the tripod, trying to tip the camera over so the keys will fall in her direction and she won’t have to leave him.

“No, Dani, wait!” he groans. “If you break it... You'd be tampering with evidence. It’s recording.. D- Don’t.”

She curses under her breath, recognizing the red blinking light on the camcorder, then looks between the keys and him in anguish. “I’m scared if I let go of you, you’ll pass out...”

“I won’t. You can trust me, remember?” His voice cracks, and tears fill both of their eyes again at the memory of the first time he said that, the last time she was looking after him.

She lays him down gently and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Do _not_ fall asleep on me,” she orders before leaping up and running towards the camera.

As he lays there, he notices the blanket. She turns around and sees him reaching for it, but also sees fresh blood beginning to soak his shirt where the wound was.

“Don’t move!” She cries, rushing back in time to grab his arms before his hands can reach the blanket. “Malcolm, you’re bleeding again, just stay still-”

“I need- Dani, no, I need-” He fights her. She hoists him up again, one arm propping him up, the other lifting up his shirt. 

It’s hard to know the exact level of damage since he’s twisting in her arms, still trying to reach the blanket, but she’s mortified by what she finds. Jagged crisscrossed knife wounds are etched deep in his stomach, glistening with new blood. 

He needs medical attention, _now._

She remembers her walkie-in her confusion and shock, she’d forgotten it-and pulls it from her belt loop. “Malcolm, _stop!_ I’m going to get help-”

Suddenly she hears footsteps in the stairwell. She drops the walkie and pulls out her gun, ready to fire.

“NYPD!” She hears JT’s voice coming down the hallway, rushing towards the open door. “Put your hands up!”  
_________________

Malcolm doesn’t remember much of what happened when Gil and JT found them. He remembers the sound of Dani dropping their gun, Gil screaming at her for disobeying orders, JT cursing at the sight of the scene, and then all three of them attending to him. He remembers suddenly feeling faint, JT calling for an ambulance on the walkie. He remembers Dani’s hands against his wound, and Gil’s over hers, keeping pressure. Remembers Dani sobbing “His side is fucking lasagna;* he needs to an ambulance _now,_ JT.” Remembers Gil telling Dani he’s bleeding out. Remembers feeling the overwhelming urge to just rest, to sleep...

He remembers Dani’s voice, loud and frantic, begging him “don’t fall asleep, you promised, you _promised_ me, Malcolm!” Remembers feeling her tears hitting his face. 

After that, darkness.  
_________________

When he first comes to and his eyes begin to open, the lights are so bright that he thinks he’s still in the basement again. He worries that John’s come back, having killed his mother and sister as was intended, and was now pointing the lights on him to wake him up and share the news. He almost keeps his eyes shut, until he realizes the light is almost white, not the stale yellow of the floodlights. 

Then he hears Gil’s voice, somewhere just out of sight: “Bright? You awake, kid?”

The effort to turn and find Gil is exhausting-he feels the tightness of stitches against his forehead, and his head is throbbing in general. 

Gil pulls his chair closer to Malcolm’s bedside. “I’m right here, kid; try not to move so much.” Malcolm feels Gil’s hand rest on his arm.

“Gil, i- is... has he-”

“If you’re asking about Watkins, yes, we got him, and no, he didn’t get to your mother and Ainsley. We realized what was happening, sent a different unit to your mother’s house. They caught him outside before he could get to them.” Gil sighs, looking over Malcolm’s shoulder and out the window. “And yes, he’s still alive. He’s locked up though, and on suicide watch, just in case... He’s not going anywhere, even to Hell. I’ll interrogate him tomorrow.”

Malcolm lets out a long exhale, and Gil smiles at his apparent relief. “Good,” Malcolm manages to rasp. “Where is-”

“Dani?” Gil’s one step ahead of him. “The only other person I’d assume you’d ask about?” Malcolm nods. “Not to worry, the ‘Haldol** police’ is here. She rode in the ambulance, was at your side when you got out of surgery... She left 20 minutes ago because I told her she needed to go to the gift shop for a new shirt, and the café for something to eat. Took a _lot_ of convincing for her to leave. I honestly don’t know who’s more stubborn anymore: her, or you.”

“‘The Haldol police,’” Malcolm repeats Gil’s new nickname for her. He starts to laugh before wincing, the stitches in his side pinching together painfully.

“The only thing she couldn’t protect you from was the anesthesia. They remembered you the last time you were here, after the snake bite... They figured you’d go berserk again when you woke up.” Gil pats Malcolm’s arm. “You got the crap kicked out of you, but I’m still surprised you don’t have much energy left. Should I be worried?” He offers Malcolm a smile, one that Malcolm returns.

“What about... Col-”

“Oh, Colette?” He’s surprised to see Gil laugh again. “She was in _a_ hospital... Not this one, though.”

“Why?”

“Funny story,” Gil rubs a hand over his chin. “We were in the cabin when we heard a noise outside. She thought it was you or Watkins, burst out the door and went on a witch hunt looking for the source of the sound. Thought either of you was running away. Made us all come with her- what a load of bologna. Turns out it was a local hunter who saw all the cop cars and got curious... Here’s the kicker, though: the hunter saw us coming after him and fled, and in the process of trying to bring him down, she tripped over a rock and twisted her ankle.” 

Gil covers his mouth trying to stifle his cackling so as not to make Malcolm laugh again. “JT could’ve been fired for laughing... But that wouldn’t have been fair, because I was laughing, too.” 

Malcolm smiles and starts to cough out a chuckle. “Don’t laugh again, kid,” Gil pleads, “don’t hurt yourself.”

“Anyways, JT had told me earlier that Dani was nowhere to be found, so while Her Highness was cursing out that hunter, we turned and went back to the cabin. Lucky for us, we found both of you.” Gil smiles again, and it touches the corners of his eyes. “And lucky for both of you, you two were in an ambulance and out of there before she could hobble back and curse you guys out, too. So, for now at least, you’re safe from her.”

A flash of curls come into view through the glass outside his room, and suddenly she’s through the door, at the foot of his bed. 

“Well then. Speak of the Haldol police,” Gil remarks, “and she’ll appear.”

“You’re awake,” Dani breathes, her eyes only on him. 

“Yeah,” he croaks. “Still can’t get rid of me, I guess... Sorry about that.”

The next moments are a blur to him-he’s still so tired, so “out of it” from the anesthesia. Gil leaves, Dani replacing him to stay at his bedside. Her hand holding his, her thumb rubbing over his fingers. Her tearing up, breaking down, whispering “We thought we lost you. I... I thought I lost you.” Him telling her “you didn’t... You made me promise, remember?” And then the sound of commotion in the hallway.

“That’s... my mother,” He groans. “I can just tell.”  
_________________

Dani gets up and wanders slowly towards the doorway, trying to listen to his mother in the hall.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” a stranger-probably a nurse-says. “Visiting hours have ended, and we want to make sure he takes the time he needs to rest and recover-”

“I just escaped a murderer and found out my kidnapped son is alive, and _you won’t let me_ see _him?”_ He was certainly right- Jessica Whitly’s panicked voice was unmistakable.

“Mom, just listen to her.” another voice-Ainsley’s. “We’ll come back first thing in the morning. He’ll be fine.”

“He’ll be _fine,_ Ainsley?! He’s _not_ fine! He was just-”

“We have an officer staying overnight with him, ma’am, keeping watch. Lieutenant Gil Arroyo just informed me. I can assure you he’ll be safe between police surveillance and our care.”

Dani steps further out to the edge of the doorway, looking side to side for an officer on duty, before she realizes that officer was _her._ She was in an oversized grey sweatshirt that was too big for her rather than the slightly-more-professional-looking shirt she’d worn earlier, but her badge was still on her hip.

She watches as Jessica eventually relents to the nurse’s reassurances, spinning around and storming off, Ainsley on her heels trying to keep up. Something possesses Dani to finally come into the hallway and watch them leave.

From yards away, Ainsley looks over her shoulder, slowing down when she recognizes Dani. They hadn’t seen each other since they met in Malcolm’s apartment while he went in search of new bandages, almost a month ago now. 

Jessica’s still walking briskly ahead, and doesn’t notice when Ainsley stops, her eyes still on Dani. 

“Thank you,” Ainsley calls down the hallway to Dani before turning back to race after her mother.  
_________________

Jessica turns to see Ainsley following behind her, going as fast as her heels would allow.

“Who were you talking to?” She asks, curious.

“The officer staying with him,” Ainsley replies. “I’ll explain later, but he’s in good hands.”

Jessica wants to see whomever had been posted to look after her son, to wave them down and thank them personally as well, but the hallway is empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was in such a rush to post this and move onto the next chapter I didn't thoroughly re-read for spelling and grammar mistakes... If you found either, I'm sorry!
> 
> * The “fucking lasagna” line actually isn’t mine, it’s from an episode of Mindhunter Season 1, Episode 3, to describe a murder scene: “[The] dog’s fucking lasagna.” Figured I’d give credit where credit’s due.
> 
> ** Haldol is an antipsychotic used to sedate agitated patients. 
> 
> Also, I hope you liked how I tied the Ainsley/Dani scene to “That Level, Too,” one of my other fics! If not, you should go read it after this :]
> 
> I’ll try and post Chapter 3 before 10:45am tomorrow. I may not complete this in exactly 24 hours, as I made last-minute plans with friends I haven’t seen in a bit and they can only meet tomorrow night after my shift at work, but I’ll definitely have this completely finished by the end of tomorrow!


	3. 3. Everything I Wanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I had a dream  
>  I got everything I wanted  
> But when I wake up, I see  
> You with me_
> 
> _And you say,  
>  "As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you  
> Don't wanna lie here, but you can learn to  
> If I could change the way that you see yourself  
> You wouldn't wonder why you hear 'they don't deserve you'" _
> 
> -Billie Eilish, “everything i wanted”
> 
> Trigger/Content warning for an unexpected death and trauma. Please reconsider reading this if you may be affected by this content.

He’s “fine.” He’s “it wasn’t that bad, I promise.” He’s “I’ve already been through some pretty terrible stuff before in my life. This is nothing in comparison.”

She, with purple rings around her eyes, with too many haunting memories, and with exhaustion embedding itself into her bones, _knows_ he’s lying to everyone. He’s lying to her, Gil, Colette, JT, his mother and sister, and most importantly, himself.  
_________________

After he’s discharged from the hospital, she becomes his shadow. Every follow-up appointment to get his wounds checked, every time he goes into the precinct to be questioned (she can’t be in the room with him when Colette’s there, much to the Special Agent’s amusement, so she keeps her post outside the door). Every sunrise, every sunset.

The first night he’s home, she sleeps on his couch until his screams tear her out of a (rare, as of the past week) deep sleep. He nearly rips one of his restraints out of the wall before she has to straddle him, her hands pinning his, screaming his name and sobbing as she begs him to wake up. 

When he finally comes to and takes her in, tears streaming down her face and all, guilt envelops him as he remembers how much she looks like Eve. She notices his face change and nearly collapses, a string of “it’s okay”s and “you didn’t hurt me”s pouring out of her mouth. 

“I promise, I promise. You didn’t hurt me, I’d tell you, it’s _okay,_ Malcolm; I’m not scared.” 

Keeping one of his hands in hers, she swings her leg over and goes to lay down on his side- the side that isn’t healing from Watkin’s hunting knife, or his “good side,” as it’s known now.

“Dani, _don’t._ I’ll never forgive myself if I hurt you.”

“You won’t, but even if you did, I’d forgive you. That should be all that matters.”

He tries to shrug her off of him. “You don’t understand-”

“Do I?” She retorts. “I just saved you from throwing yourself out the window-which has happened before, according to what Ainsley said your mother told her.”

“You don’t understand the _guilt_ I feel!” he cries. She retracts from him and he slowly sits up, unbuckling the restraints and heading to the kitchen. Her eyes stay on him, trying to guess what he’s planning to do.

She’s worried about him. He seems troubled, but not like the way he used to be. There’s more to him than the eight-year-old* boy who was traumatized by his father being arrested for murdering 23 people now; there’s also the thirty-year-old who was held hostage and slowly butchered alive by a sadistic friend of his father’s.

He pours himself a glass of water, and she anxiously watches the wine glass as he shakily picks it up and brings it to his lips. The last thing he needs is to have glass in the thumb he fractured when he hit it with a hammer, unsuccessfully trying to free himself from the handcuffs.

“Tell me about your guilt, then,” she murmurs.

He swallows audibly. “You wouldn’t understand that either, I’m afraid.” He downs the rest of the glass and stalks off towards the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower; I’m sweating from that dream. You should honestly go home.”

“I don’t understand _guilt?!”_ She growls, hopping off the bed and marching after him. “My mother was killed by a driver in a hit and run crash on a day I was supposed to go food shopping with her. And _I_ don’t fucking understand _guilt?!”_

He stops and turns to look at her, the breath knocked out of him.

“I was eight. I stayed home because I felt too tired, so she went ahead without me. She got hit in an alleyway, taking a shortcut to come home, probably because she was worried about me.” She wipes her eyes, hiccuping back a sob. 

“Because nobody else was there to witness the crash, she died in the rain, cold and alone. The paramedics think she was alive for fifteen minutes before she succumbed to her injuries. Fifteen whole minutes when someone could’ve been there with her, held her hand, called a fucking ambulance quicker than what I can only assume was the driver, since we’ll never know who exactly placed the call that got her found. And yet _I_ don’t understand _guilt?”_ She lets out a breathless laugh. “Screw you.” She walks towards his couch to retrieve the pillow and blanket she’d been using.

“Dani, I didn’t-”

“Oh, you didn’t know? Of _course_ you didn’t. But you would’ve if you asked, right? See, I tried asking you about _your_ guilt, because I wanted to understand. And I wouldn’t have been an asshole and explained. Because that’s what people _do_ for each other, Malcolm, when they _trust_ each other.” 

She swipes up the blanket and tosses the pillow over her shoulder. “And I... I _trusted_ you, Malcolm. I trusted you not to die in my arms, trusted you to be honest with me the way I just had to be honest with you. But I’m not so sure if I can do that anymore.” 

She threw both the pillow and blanket onto his bed and walked right past him to get her shoes and jacket. “For your sake, I hope you put those restraints back on when you go back to sleep tonight.” 

The door slams, and he’s alone. She cries the whole drive back to her place, dry-heaving by the time she shakily unlocks her door, and is red-faced and broken inside by the time her tears put her to sleep.  
_________________

He buzzes her in the following morning. The inside front door to his place is unlocked, so she lets herself in and finds a dozen roses on his kitchen island.

He appears from the living room, cautious.

“Did you sleep at all, after last night?” He asks.

“A bit. You?”

“No, but it’s okay. I still got five hours before you helped me wake up.”

“Good, I’m glad,” she murmurs, eyes cast down at her feet.

“What was her name?” he asks. “Your mother.”

“Margaret,” she responds, her eyes growing watery by the second. “‘Maggie.’ I only knew her as ‘Momma’ when she was alive, though.” She sniffs. “She had eyes just as blue as yours... And long, strawberry blonde hair she always braided into a side ponytail over her right shoulder. She smelled like lavender at all times. She loved camping, since she grew up a few hours from Acadia National Park in Maine... We let her ashes go into the wind on a mountaintop there. Don’t ask me how she ended up in the Bronx considering her love of the woods, but she did, and that’s where she met my dad. And I miss her... I miss her a lot.”

He wiped a tear from his eye at the same time she did.

“Nobody ever blamed me for it, you know. Not my dad, my grandmother, my brother or my sister. But _I_ did... I still do, to this day.” She sighed before looking up at him. “So yeah, I understand guilt. Yours may not be the same as mine, but...” She trailed off for a moment before taking a step closer to him. “I can understand it, on some level at least.”

He closes the space between them to wrap his arms around her. His side’s aching from her body being pressed up against him, but not the way his heart is. “I’m so sorry, Dani. About her, about what I said last night, about everything.” He smooths a hand over her curls as she tucks her head under his neck. “Can you trust me again, if I’m honest with you?”

“Of course.”   
_________________

She wasn’t even aware he had access to the roof of his building. Then again, she’d only been in his place a handful of times before this.

The second floor had 2 guest bedrooms (one of which had a queen-sized bed, “just in case I ever have company,” he says, though he know she won't use it since she wants to sleep closer to him. The other room remained a space for exercise equipment), a bathroom, and a lone door in the center of the hallway. On the other side is a set of stairs with another door that he holds open for her, inviting her to “go see Tribeca*** from a different perspective.”

The January wind is much harsher against her skin up here than it was on the sidewalk when she first arrived, but the view is worth it. The neighborhood is alive and booming with traffic-both on foot and on wheels-but from up here, just her and him, it feels peaceful.

“It wasn’t until I started living here,” he says from a few paces behind her, “that I knew how birds truly felt, spying on our world from below.”

He joins her at the ledge that overlooks the street, and for a while they stand there in silence, letting the car horns and loud fragments of distant conversations hold them in the present. For a moment, Dani remembers that he still hasn’t told her what’s been bothering him, and she wishes he didn’t have to. If they could stay up here and leave both their past and present traumas behind them, she’d be content.

That wish never comes true, however, because he puts his hand over his and begins telling her about the girl in the box.

She’s in disbelief about they never found _anything_ from her in 1998. “There must’ve been fingerprints, hair strands... There must’ve been _something.”_

“Nope. Nothing,” he replies as the wind plays with his hair. “Nothing until I got the bracelet a few weeks ago. And, well, now there’s the blanket.”

“The blanket you were trying to grab at... When we were in the basement.”

“It was under that canvas... tarp, I guess? Whatever it was. Dark-colored, it was sticking out a bit.”

“I remember,” she says.

“She was under that blanket in the back of my dad’s car. John brought it down, asking me if I remembered it... I wouldn’t tell him that I did.” He swallows hard. “It drove him nuts. That’s when he started carving me up, trying to get some kind of response out of me.”

The look in his eyes is distant, pained. He’s still on the roof with her physically, but Dani can tell that his mind is elsewhere. She places her other hand on top of his, giving him a little squeeze. He gives her a tight-lipped smile.

“I don’t know what happened to it,” she admits, “You were more of my priority there. I’m sure it was bagged as evidence if you need to see it again or-”

“Oh, it was,” he interjects, letting out a heartless laugh, “by Colette. And now, she thinks that that blanket’s her golden ticket to get me charged for being an accomplice to murder.” Dani sees his face get red, his eyes brim with tears. “She thinks that I had something to do with that poor girl’s murder, that I’m hiding behind a façade of PTSD and repressed memories, that I really am the same as my father after all.”

“But you’re _not_ your father, Malcolm,” she challenges, “I know that, _you_ know that. Don’t listen to her.”

“I wish I could agree with you,” he sniffs, wiping his eyes. He withdraws his hand from under hers, stepping back. “The thing is, though, I _don’t_ remember. I remember my father trying to get me to press a knife into something under that blanket-he told me it was a deer, but you and I both know that probably wasn’t the case. And after that, I remember nothing... Nothing, that is, until another brief memory of running through the woods with that same knife at night.” He walks back to the rooftop entrance.

“Malcolm-”

“I need to go inside, get dressed. I have therapy in an hour, need to call a cab.”

“Take your time. I’ll drive you.” She flits over to meet him.

His brow furrows, incredulous. “You’ll drive me to _therapy?”_

“I went once, too,” she answers. “A few months after my mom died. Hated it. You don’t seem to, though, so you should go.”

He smiles-it’s genuine this time-and lets her go inside first.

_________________

“I feel bad. You’re more than welcome to run other errands while I’m in there, and I’ll text you when I’m done.”

“I do have to go back to my apartment... I’ll be back in time.”

An hour later, as Gabrielle escorts him out of her office, they’re both surprised to find Dani in a chair in the waiting room.

“O- Hey,” he says when she looks up at him. “I didn’t realize you came in.”

“Door was open,” She says, offering a soft smile.

“Oh. Uh, Dani, this is Gabrielle. Gabrielle, Dani.” His face is flushed, which she finds endearingly adorable. She gets up and shakes his therapist’s hand.

“So nice to meet you,” Gabrielle murmurs, and Dani can tell from her face that she feels the same about the red tint to his face.

They leave together, him embarrassed and her slightly amused. 

“Should I not have come in?” she asks when they make it to her car, sudden regret washing over her. 

“No, no. It’s alright. She knows about you, actually.”

“Really?” Her tone’s curious and slightly playful. “You’ve told your therapist about me?”

“All good things,” he replies. “All good things.”

Every week after that day, she not only drives him both ways, but waits in the waiting room during his appointments. At his request, of course.

_________________

His night terrors seem to grow worse each night. One night he finally does succeed in tearing a restraint out of the wall. 

But she’s there, she has been since they made up that one chilly morning, and on this night, she decides enough is enough and sleeps next to him instead of on the couch.  
He begs her not to, as can be expected, but she refuses to give in. Dani tries every tactic she knows-she’s a true middle child, a true mediator-until he can’t fight her any longer.

“Fine,” he grumbles at last, and the smile on her face is so big that his heart flutters. She scrambles into bed next to him, tossing her pillow next to his, though she “didn’t need to, you know,” he says to her.

“I know, just claiming my territory,” she gloats.

At first she just lays next to him, closing her eyes but secretly remaining awake to monitor him. After a while, she hears him sigh and finally settle in, sinking deep into the mattress beside her.

She pops an eye open. “You really shouldn’t sleep on your back, you know,” she says softly.

“It’s how I sleep, how I’ve always slept.”

“Well then, it’s no wonder you have so many night terrors,” she murmurs. “My dad used to tell me that when you sleep on your back, you’re exposing yourself. Your body knows that you’re vulnerable, so it’ll try waking you up.”

“Is that really why?”

“Who knows. But I stopped sleeping on my back after that. Slept with two huge pillows on either side of me until I finally kicked the habit.”

He turns to face her. “You had night terrors too?”

“Night terrors, yeah, but mostly sleep paralysis. I still get it occasionally, when I’m really stressed, but not like I used to.”

“I never knew...” his voice trails off. “Well, if that ever happens while you’re here, I’ll try to help if I can. If I’m not trapped in something myself.”

“Maybe we’ll wake each other up.” She smiles, and they both dissolve into laughing.

“Come on, nightmare boy,” she teases, “I got rid of my bad sleeping habits; time for you to get rid of yours.”

He turns away from her with a huff, laying on his other side. He grabs a bunch of pillows, building a fort around his front before realizing he doesn’t have enough to cover his back. Dani notices at the same time he does and, after half a second of hesitation, wraps herself around him.

He laughs. “Y- You don’t have to do that.”

“No issue on my end. You’ll keep me from sleeping on my back this way, too. It’s a win-win.”

“Well, I can’t really argue with that. Your hands are freezing, though.”

“Too bad, tough guy," She says. "Besides, people sleep better when they’re slightly cold.”

“You’re just full of sleep facts, aren’t you?” He cranes his neck to look at her. The laugh lines on his cheeks are showing, and now _her_ heart’s beating irregularly, too.

“Just go to sleep, or I’ll punch your lights out again like I did that time when you were high.”

“Will do, ma`am.” He settles back down.

In 45 minutes or so, he’s fast asleep and she’s on her own, left to think about how natural, how _nice_ this feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The show and that Killers and Coffee podcast are running in circles with how old this boy is. I’m going with 8, because I feel like it.
> 
> **Since my headcanon is that Malcolm’s birthday is in April (that boy has to be an Aries, I just feel it in my bones), he’s not yet thirty in this current timeline (January). This was initially part of a much longer chapter that I decided to split up... So expect Ch. 4 very soon (since I'm technically more than halfway done with it, lol).
> 
> ***The idea of Malcolm's apartment being in Tribeca came from @morningssofgold. Thank you, girl, for letting me borrow your headcanon!
> 
> “Soundtrack” for this chapter:
> 
> “everything i wanted” – Billie Eilish (s/o to my sister for introducing me to this song, and for @malcolmbrightwell’s beautiful Brightwell video with the same song for extra inspiration!)
> 
> “Skinny Love” – Birdy


	4. 4. Be Still (And Know I Am)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _If terror falls upon your bed  
>  And sleep no longer comes  
> Remember all the words I said  
> Be still, be still, and know_
> 
> _And when you go through the valley  
>  And the shadow comes down from the hill  
> If morning never comes to be  
> Be still, be still, be still_
> 
> _If you forget the way to go  
>  And lose where you came from  
> If no one is standing beside you  
> Be still and know I am _
> 
> -The Fray, “Be Still”
> 
> Trigger/Content warning here for suicidal ideation and a suicide attempt. Again, please reconsider before reading if you are sensitive to this content.

The team-sans Malcolm- gets called away on a case during one of the days Colette tries interrogating him again. They’re not getting enough out of Watkins, and Colette’s still not done trying to burn her former co-worker at the stake.

What Dani didn’t realize until they came back, though, was that Colette tried something different today. Malcolm consented to trying a session of EMDR therapy with a trained psychologist, and whatever happened, it didn’t go well, because he’d left the precinct long after the team returned.

“What the hell did you _do_ to him?” Dani’s voice squeaks in panic when she realizes he’s gone.

“We didn’t get anything useful out of him- he asked to terminate the session early.” Colette folds her arms, rocking back and forth proudly on her heels. “He might remember something, though, and when he does, he’ll be back. I’m sure of it.”

“With all due respect, Special Agent,” Gil’s voice is controlled, but Dani knows there’s anger boiling under his cool demeanor, “I don’t think this is a good use of your time. You should be focused on getting Watkins behind bars for good.”

“We are,” Colette clicks her tongue and looks back to Dani, staring her down. “But I think there’s more than one guilty person who needs to serve justice here. Malcolm may have been eight, but that’s no excuse when you help two serial killers take an innocent life.”

“Has that blanket been tested yet?” Gil loses the professional niceties; he’s seething now. He looks to Dani and JT. “Where’s Edrisa? Get her on that. Test it for his DNA, since I’m assuming you already got a cheek swab from him," he says, turning back to Colette.

“We have one,” Colette replies, her eyes darkening. “Good idea, Lieutenant. I’ll ask CSU myself to put a rush on that.”  
_________________

“Was that a good idea?” JT asks Gil, breaking the silence after they’ve sat in the conference room stunned for a few moments.

“Could either be the best thing for Bright, or the worst,” Gil states blankly, looking out the window to escape his own mind. “In my opinion, there’s no way he could’ve done anything to that girl, repressed memories be damned. He’s not his father; never was. Even if Martin held a knife in his hands and tried to force him to do something...” 

Gil takes a pregnant pause for a moment before speaking again. “He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t. He had a good head on his shoulders when he was eight, still does now. I’d swear to that... In court.” He rubs his forehead before leaving the room, the door slamming shut in his wake.

Minutes pass, and JT looks to Dani. “Go find him. You’re probably the only one who can talk him down right now... But let us know if you need help.” He claps her once on the shoulder before leaving as well.  
_________________

He says he went straight home. She hopes she can believe him.

He’s showered-“twice,” he says-but he’s still sweating, shaking. She tries holding him, he wiggles his way out of her arms and stalks off to a different side of the apartment. 

“Talk to me,” Dani begs. “Please. Anything’s better than nothing.”

He stays quiet, head on top of his knees rocking himself slowly in his reading chair. She’s crumbling at the sight of him.

“Please, Malcolm. Anything.”

He lets out a long exhale before looking at her from her spot on his bed. “Wanna hear about how I got Sunshine?”

His expression, posture, and tone change as he tells her about the parakeet, how she* was a gift from Ainsley when he moved back to NYC. “I come home my second morning after moving in, and there’s Sunshine in her cage, same spot she’s in now, with a note on the kitchen table from Ains. ‘Thought you might like someone to talk to who isn’t Mom when I can’t be there,’ it said.” They both laugh. “I took Ainsley out for coffee later to say thank you, and ran into Gil the same day. Met you guys. And, well, the rest is history.”

“To think we wouldn’t have met you, if not for a bird...” Dani looks over to the parakeet’s cage. “Thank you, Sunshine!”

He smiles. “To be fair, you probably would’ve met me anyway... Gil still would’ve sought me out once he knew I was back. Maybe just not on that day, not for that first case I was on with all of you.”

“Poor JT wouldn’t have gotten to watch you chop off a poor guy’s hand.”

“Yep,” Malcolm chuckles. “Would’ve been his loss.”

Dani throws her head back, howling with laughter. Malcolm realizes he’s never gotten to see her like this. 

“Now you tell me something."

“Well, as you know, I don’t have any pets now. But I used to,” She sits cross-legged, relaxing. “We had four dogs while I was growing up.”

“I knew you were a dog person.”

“And damn proud of it,” she returns. She tells him about all of them- Boomer, Mizzy, Dragon, and her favorite, a black Labrador-German Shepherd mix named Black Bear. “Black Bear was alive the longest of all of them that we had. We got him when I was 7, and he was with us until I was 19. He was alive even after Mizzy and Dragon passed away, but then again we got them before him... I cared about Black Bear more, though. He was _my_ dog.”

“He was a nightmare,” Dani continues. “He ate everything- everything dogs shouldn’t eat. If you were too absorbed in Saturday morning cartoons, Black Bear would come right up to your spot on the floor and steal a Pop-Tart right out of your hand.” They’re laughing so hard that they’re crying now. “My dad got tired of taking him to the vet to make him puke up whatever he ate, so eventually we just hoped for the best when he got something. My mother said Black Bear must’ve actually been part bear, because he ate like one and still never got sick.”

“Did you adopt all of them?” He asks. “My mother debated on getting a cocker spaniel once, but Ainsley saw an ASPCA commercial and got it in her head that we had to pick out a dog from a shelter... My mother refused, thinking anything that didn’t come from a breeder was bad news.”

“Of course we did!” She pipes up. “There was an animal shelter in the Bronx we’d go to... Sometimes just for fun. That’s how we ended up with Mizzy, actually. Mizzy was short for ‘Mistake.’ My mom comes home with us and a puppy one day, and I’ll never forget what my dad said: ‘Jesus, Maggie, you made a mistake!’” She nearly falls back on the bed, cackling.  
_________________

When she feels he’s calmed down enough, and he’s eaten, showered (once more, at his urging) and settled into bed with her arms around him, she finally believes that he’ll be alright. She nods off soon after he does, breathing in his cologne and thinking that he’s really making progress. He's had setbacks here and there- normal, as to be expected- but he’s going to be alright. He’s got her, Gil, JT, Edrisa, his family and his therapist to vouch for him if Colette tries anything. 

He’s going to make it through this, the same way he’s made it through everything else.  
_________________

She wakes up that night and he’s not there. 

He’s nowhere downstairs. Nowhere upstairs either.

She regrets all of the thoughts that she took to bed with her.

She’s a few steps outside of his place, running out into the street before she remembers it.

_The roof._

The tears come long before she’s back on the main floor. She’s panting and sobbing as she races up the stairs to the second floor, barely breathing as she flings the door with roof access open.

 _I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Malcolm,_ she thinks. _I’m so sorry I didn’t think of this._

_I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._

_Please be okay. Don’t do it. Please, please don’t do it._

As she pulls the final door open, she remembers how she felt the same way before she found him in the basement. 

Hoping, wishing, praying that he wasn’t...  
_________________

She turns the knob and slowly peers outside. The last thing she needs to do is scare him.

He’s sitting on the ledge. His barefoot feet are still touching the concrete, but barely. The rest of his body’s twisted towards the skyline, precariously too close to the edge. And she can hear him quietly sobbing.

She swallows a sob of her own, pulling herself together for him. 

“Hey,” she says, her tone just loud enough for him to hear. He turns and looks at her, and her heart tears at the complete and utter _pain_ on his face.

“Hey.”

She takes two steps away from the door towards him. “Wanna talk?”

He looks down at his feet, and then back towards the night sky. “Not sure.”

“It can be about anything. Anything you want. I’m here to listen.”

“I... I just don’t know, Dani.”

She takes a deep breath. “You don’t know what?”

He doesn’t respond, his back still turned to her.

“I can’t read your mind, Malcolm... You have to at least meet me halfway.”

“You never called me by my first name before this whole thing happened...” He sniffs, and she can tell he’s wiping his eyes. “You know that, right?”

“I do. Things were a bit different then... A bit different, than the way they are now.”

“What do you mean?” He turns his head ever so slightly to peer back at her.

“You and I have been through a lot since this happened,” she says, taking a few more cautious steps towards his perch. “You almost... I almost lost you in that basement. And I’ve been here nearly every day since then. So... Things are different.” She wrings her hands together, trying to keep them from shaking. “And I care...so, so much more about you now. I hope you feel the same.”

“I do...” He replies, bringing his gaze back to the lights of the city around him. “I do.”

Her chest caves. _So don’t jump, then,_ she thinks. _Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me._

“It’s just... It’s just so _hard,_ Dani,” he whimpers. “I don’t remember... I don’t trust myself.” She hears a sob rip through him before he looks at her again, tears dripping onto his t-shirt collar. “Why, _why don’t I_ remember _?”_

“I don’t know,” she replies, her own eyes watering as well. “If I could make you remember...” She starts, but corrects herself. “No, scratch that. If I could make you remember, and it wouldn’t hurt you, I would.” 

“Yeah, that’s the thing.” He looks to his feet again, lifting one of them off the ground. She takes two urgent steps forward before he, without looking at her, brings it back to the concrete. “What if I remember, and Colette’s right after all? What if I’m a murderer too? What if my father’s right, and we _are_ the same?”

“Then we’ll handle it,” Her tone is pleading with him now. “We’ll handle it, you and I and Gil and JT and everyone else who loves you. We’ll handle it.”

“I don’t know if I can,” he sobs. “I’m just not sure anymore.”

“I think so,” she murmurs, “I really do. Because I believe in you, Malcolm. I believe in you, in Gil and JT and Edrisa, in your mother and sister, in your therapist. And I believe in us. I believe we can get through this.”

“And I think somewhere, deep down, you believe in yourself, too,” she continues. “Do you agree?”

He looks to his feet, presses his toes harder against the pavement. 

“See?” She says, her voice rising an octave. “I think you do. I think you believe in yourself. I think your PTSD’s a huge liar, Malcolm. I think it’s telling you not to believe in yourself, but you, the _real_ you, knows it’s lying.”

She takes a few more steps closer. “Tell it to fuck off,” she says, her voice encouraging. “Tell your PTSD, and the night terrors, and your self-doubt, and hell, even Colette to fuck off.”

“You sound like Gabrielle,” he breaths out a laugh. “Minus the swears, of course.”

“Well... I add my own little flare to things,” she shrugs, a smile playing on the corners of her lips. “But I’m serious. Tell all of it, everything that isn’t positive, to just fuck off.”

“This is all so stupid...”

“Who cares?” Her pitch breaks. “Say it. Loud enough so I can hear you.”

“Dani...”

“I’m serious, Malcolm. Say it.”

“Fuck off...” He’s whispering.

“I’m sorry?”

“Fuck...”

“Come again?”

He growls under his breath. _"Fuck off.”_

“That’s it. Thank you.”

She walks forward until she’s a few feet away from him, and extends an arm.

“Here. Take my hand.”

He rotates his whole body to face her. She tries to control the tears.

“Why?”

She rolls her eyes, beckons him towards her with her fingers. “Just because I miss you.”

He lets out a soft chuckle and slides off his perch, back onto the concrete. She crosses the distance between them and throws arms around him, her breathing erratic. She feels his arms around her as well, fingertips tracing patterns up and down her back.

“Thank you,” she breathes against his ear, a hand fisted in his hair. “Thank you.”

He responds by pulling her closer.

“Come downstairs with me,” Dani begs. “We have to keep going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Like other authors have said, I put a note here because I wrote Sunshine as a she, though we're still not sure of her exact gender yet. If it turns out to be different, I'll gladly go back and edit this.
> 
> “Breakers” – Local Natives
> 
> “Be Still” – The Fray
> 
> “Never Say Never” – The Fray
> 
> “Come Back When You Can” – Barcelona
> 
> Final note here: I don't want to make it seem like I'm discouraging or dissing EMDR therapy in any way. It can be incredibly helpful to those handling with past traumas. Colette is just twisting it to use in her own negative agenda... Also, I'm unsure of whether findings from an EMDR therapy session can be used in a legal investigation, or whether they have any merit in a murder investigation/trial, let alone any legal/murder case in general.


	5. 5. We All Go Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Oh, Father tell me,_   
>  _Do we get what we deserve?”_
> 
> -KALEO, “Way Down We Go”
> 
> Alright, I said this would be the last chapter, but that was a big lie: it’s not. I realized writing this that I need to add another chapter instead of making this one way too long. 
> 
> *** Important Content Warning: This chapter discusses an unsolved murder case that I'm sure plenty of you may have heard of or know about. It mentions details from the crime scene and autopsy report, only because they have significance to this story. If you have not seen the crime scene or autopsy photos from this case, _I strongly recommend that you do not look them up._ They are beyond horrific. I saw them by accident, and wish I never did. You won't be "missing out" on anything in this story if you do not look the photos up, so I strongly recommend that you don't. ***

“How’s he been doing?”

Gil catches her alone-a rarity these days-in the conference room while she’s looking through photos of Watkin’s basement. She’s been purposefully avoiding being alone with him, because she knew what he’d ask.

“I’m sorry?” She blinks.

Gil smiles and moves closer to her. She tries to hide in her paperwork, but she knows she’s been cornered.

“I might be getting older, but I’m not any less observant,” he chuckles under his breath. “Something’s been going on between you two.”

She rolls her eyes. “Gil-”

“I figured something was going on before... before all _this-”_ he gestures to a photo of the empty basement- “but the way you’ve been acting around him these past few weeks confirmed it. You follow him like you’re ready to catch him the second he falls. When he gets out of that interrogation room you’re the only thing he sees. And you’ve been repeating outfits a lot lately- probably, I’m assuming, because you’re doing laundry at his place a lot?”

She wants to slap herself for how frozen she’s become. And she’s going to interrogate a _serial killer_ later?

“Are you a profiler too now? Mal- _Bright’s_ taught you too much.” Her cheeks burn crimson, and Gil’s smile touches his eyes.

“Hey, I’m not judging. If anything I’m ‘giving my blessing,’ if you will.” 

She cocks an eyebrow at him. 

“I’ve known both of you separately for a long time. Didn’t think of what you’d be like together but...” There’s a spark in his eye as he looks at her. “Makes sense to me now.”

She smiles back, her eyes downcast. “We’re not together. I’m just-”

“Being there for him. Helping him out. And I’m sure he’d do the same for you if the roles were reversed. I know how these things go.”

She pauses, mouth agape, before she speaks again: “I appreciate this and all but, one thing at a time.”

“Right, right. You’re right.”

“Anything specifically you want me to ask Watkins?”

His demeanor changes, and he sighs. “I think you and I both have the same end goal.” 

“Fill in the gaps where Bright can’t?”

“Yeah.”

“Colette’s going to realize we’re working against her.”

“Who cares?” Dani throws her hands up, frustrated. “We’re on the side of the law. Figuring out who’s innocent, who isn’t. She’s on the side of whatever conspiracy she’s got in her head. It’s messed up, Gil.”

“I know, I know.”

She taps the tip of her pen against her forehead. “I just hope he gives me something, _anything_ useful.”

“Just be prepared if he doesn’t, okay? If hardass Colette can’t get anything out of him-”

“Detective Powell?” They turn to see an officer standing in the doorway. “You ready?”

Dani stands, straightening the nerves out of herself. “That’s the thing though, Gil,” she says as she strides away, a proud smile on her face, “I’m not her.”

Gil chuckles. “Thank God for that.”

_________________  
His eyes turn to spy her as she enters the room. Not his head, not even the upper half of his thick frame. Everything remains stagnant but his gaze as he watches her shut the door, stride over to the table, yank out a plastic chair and sit across from him.

“Mr. Watkins,” Dani’s voice rings with authority, though the hair on the nape of her neck stands tall. “My name is Detective Powell; I’m with the NYPD. I’m here to ask you some questions-some of which may be similar to those asked by the FBI, some of which may be new. Have you been read your rights?”

The man’s face shifts into a sneering grin. Dani’s pulse pounds harder. “I have.”

“Do you consent to speaking to me without an attorney present today?”

The odor of his rancid breath overwhelms her as Watkin’s smile widens. “Yes I do, beautiful.”

Maybe this’ll be easier than she thought. She hates any kind of unwarranted attention from men; it makes her steel up, become more quick-tongued and determined not to let them intimidate her. She clasps her hands together, raises her head a bit higher.

“I want to begin by talking about the victim you took hostage, Malcolm Bright. He was found in handcuffs, chained to the floor of your basement, battered and bleeding while a camcorder recorded footage of him on a tripod. Does this sound familiar to you?”

“Picturesque, wasn’t it?” He rests his head on his hand.

“Answer the question.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why did you choose to record Malcolm Bright while he was held hostage in your basement?”

“Do you have a family, beautiful?” Watkins asks.

“Do not dodge my questions, Mr. Watkins. This will only result in wasting your time.”

“And yours as well, I assume.” He flashes his teeth at her again. “Let’s help each other out. You answer some of my questions, I’ll answer some of yours. It’s only fair...” He cocks his head to the side. “Do we have a deal?”

“For the purposes of this session, I will answer your questions as I see fit. I expect nothing less from you.”

“There’s a good girl,” Watkins purrs. “Now, tell me: do you have a family?”

“I do not. Do you?”

“ _They_ have all become my family,” he states. “We are tied together by the experiences we’ve shared. Is that not what family is?”

Her brow furrows. “Are you referring to your victims as family?”

“Ah, smart little thing, aren’t you? Quick, like a rabbit.” He straightens up, and she realizes just how much _bigger_ he is than her when he isn’t slouching. “I am. Families record other family members, keep home movies."

She bites the inside of her cheek.

“I must admit, though,” Watkins muses, “ _they_ were all different from me... All but little Malcolm.”

“How so?”

“ _They_ were all sinners. All but little Malcolm Whitly, who was exposed to the light.”

Dani feels bile in her throat and chokes it back down. Unless she unravels his psyche, she’ll never get what she wants. “What qualifies a person as a sinner, Mr. Watkins?”

“Great question, beautiful. They walk among us every day. Prideful, lustful, greedy. They contaminate the earth.”

“Is that why you killed them, then? To remove them from the world?”

“Exactly, beautiful. I knew you were smart.”

“Let me ask you this, then: why crush them?”

“Do you feel crushed by this world, beautiful?” He asks, his voice contemplative. “Do feel crushed by the weight of your sins?”

Her mother’s casket flashes in her mind, and she banishes it. “I have regrets, though not for the same misdeeds that you’ve committed,” she responds. “Do your sins weigh you down, Mr. Watkins? All of the lives you’ve taken out of this world?”

He chuckles. “You think that _I’m_ a sinner,” he says, locking eyes with her again, “when I’m exalted. I bring the sinners out of this world and that, by itself, is not a sin.”

“Answer my earlier question, then, about why you chose to crush them.”

Watkins grins. Dani presses the small of her back against the chair. “Sinners are crushed by the heaviness of their sins, but they do not feel it; this happens when you’ve turned so far away from God. I wanted to remind them. And then, in the process, they crumbled... Ashes to ashes-”

“Dust to dust,” She finishes.

“So you know Him too, beautiful? You know God?”

“My father was Catholic, my mother was Jewish. I learned a little of both.”

“There’s always time to learn more,” Watkins croons, “so you yourself can be saved from your sins.”

“For now, I’d like to turn our conversation back to Malcolm Bright.”

He smiles, shaking his head slowly as he looks down at his hands. “You’re a persistent one, beautiful; I’ll give you that.”

“You mentioned Malcolm had been ‘exposed to the light.’ Tell me what you mean by that.”

“Ah, so you want to learn about little Malcolm Whitly too? Just like that depraved woman from the FBI I’ve been speaking to.”

Dani can agree with him on something, at least...

“You talk about Malcolm Bright as if you know him, and have for some time.” She hopes that this conversation will go where she needs it to before he shuts down, as he reportedly had with Colette in previous sessions.

“Do you know him, beautiful?”

“I do, Mr. Watkins.” She prays her face doesn’t betray her this time.

“I don’t think you do,” the man continues. She isn’t sure if he’s reading her, and if he has, what he’s found. “You don’t know him for who he really is.”

She swallows hard.

“Tell me why I don’t, then.”

“Because Malcolm is the child of a father who is exalted, as I am,” Watkins explains. “Is this news to you?”

“No, it is not.” She clears her throat. “I know that Malcolm Bright’s father, Dr. Martin Whitly, is a murderer like you. Not only that, but we have reason to suspect that you and Dr. Whitly were friends, and possibly accomplices to crimes prior to his arrest. Are both of these statements accurate?”

He brings a hand across his beard, his eyes darkening. “Martin was gifted by our God with talents in bringing down sinners that the rest of us can only pray for. I admired him for his methods, and he admired me for mine. It was a kinship, a mutual understanding. And then, there was little Malcolm Whitly...” His voice trails off.

“Please continue.”

Light reflects off his incisors as he laughs, but not his eyes. “I stole little Malcolm away to remind him of our time together, all those years ago. Far from sinners, far from all of you.”

“Can you explain what your time together involved, ‘all those years ago?’” She braces for the answer.

“Careful, now, beautiful; rabbits are quick, but they’re prone to ending up in traps. Wouldn’t want that to happen to you.”

She shifts her weight in the chair. _Not now, then,_ she thinks, _not yet._

“Tell me, then, about the wound we found on Malcolm when he was discovered in your basement.” She pulls out the photograph that makes her stomach turn the most-the crisscrossed knife wounds against Malcolm's side before he was taken into surgery- and flips it onto the table, turning it to face Watkins. “Did you do this to him?”

“Ah. I wish you could’ve heard him _scream_ when the knife hit his skin,” Watkins’ eyes finally do light up as he picks up the photo. Dani nearly retches; he’s clearly thrilled by reliving the memory.

“Why did you do this to him, Mr. Watkins?” She asks.

“To help him remember,” he replies matter-of-factly. “He said he didn’t recall. What a shame.”

“He didn’t recall that time he spent with you, ‘all those years ago?’”

“He claimed he didn’t,” Watkins says, shaking his head, “so I engraved the memory into him.”

Dani exhales. He’s right- Malcolm now will not only have psychological scars from his past, but a physical reminder to carry with him, too.

“These wounds have a specific pattern; they’re crisscrossed. Was that intentional?”

Watkins smiled. “Right again, beautiful. Do you know of the Black Dahlia?”

A shiver ran down her spine. Dani had studied the case before, seen the unaltered crime scene photos. They’d haunted her ever since. “I know of the unsolved murder of Elizabeth Short, who became known as the Black Dahlia, yes.”

“Do you know what was done to her? Think hard, now.”

Dani pauses, trying to remember the words in the autopsy report instead of the images of the woman’s body in the grass. It hits her.

“She had crisscrossed wounds as well. On the... lower half of her body.”

Watkins breathes a laugh. “I always admired the Black Dahlia Avenger’s work,” he speaks with reverence as he mentions the name given to the undiscovered murderer. “Martin did, as well. We bonded over how that slaying played a role in our discoveries of our true selves as exalted mortals, sent to destroy sinners.”

She’s speechless.

“Martin knew how she was severed, knew how to cut up a sinner’s face like hers. And I knew how to humiliate them, the way the Dahlia was when other sinners happened upon her body.”

“She was an innocent young woman,” Dani spits, suddenly overcome with rage. It’s disgusting the way he speaks of victims in general, but the way he speaks about a woman who will forever be known for the way she died makes her blood boil. “Trying to survive. Not too different from some of the people you-”

“She was a _sinner!”_ Watkins snaps, kicking his chair back and leaning onto the table. Dani jumps, but keeps her seat. “Contaminating this world with her pride, her vanity! She deserved to be taken from this world. I knew this, and Martin respected my opinion. And when we found ourselves a sinner like her... Oh, it was perfect.” His face is mere inches from her now.

A subtle shudder runs down Dani’s spine. _The girl in the box..._

It takes everything left in her not to tremble. “Sit back _down, Mr. Watkins._ _Now.”_

He remains where he is; she does the same. “There’s a quote by Nietzsche,” he tells her, his voice low. “If you gaze long enough into an abyss-” 

“‘-The abyss will gaze back into you,’” she interrupts. 

“Are you exalted too, beautiful?” 

Her mother’s smile scratches against her subconscious. 

_No,_ her thoughts retort. _He and I are not the same._

“Yes, actually,” Dani replies, “I take out sinners, too. I remove them from the streets. People who take innocent lives of those _they_ think are sinners, like you do.” She leans in even closer. “Now sit. Back. _Down.”_

Watkins opens his mouth, staining her nose with his breath before slinking back into his chair. 

“What exactly were you trying to make Malcolm remember when you abducted him a few weeks ago?” 

Watkins grins. “Come on, beautiful; you’re smarter than this.” 

“I’m not going to sit here and wonder. I want you to tell me.” 

“Are you sure?” He teases. “I think you could figure it out in no time.” 

Dani crosses her legs, as well as her arms. “You mentioned you found a sinner just like Elizabeth Short, the Black Dahlia. What did you do to her?” 

“We wanted to experiment, Martin and I,” Watkins replies. 

“Define ‘experiment.’ On her?” 

“No.” 

“Then how?” She asks. Her patience is wearing thin with him; he’s running her in circles. “Is this where Malcolm comes in?” 

“I think that you need an answer from him more than you need one from me,” Watkins says coolly. “You seem _far_ more interested in him than in me. Like the FBI agent, but... It’s different for you, isn’t it?” A smile plays on his lips. 

“Malcolm Bright is a consultant for the NYPD. That’s why I want to know what you have to say about him and what occurred between you, his father and him when he was a child.” 

“I saw an abyss when I gazed into you, beautiful. Could it be his own abyss that I saw in your eyes? Or is it something else after all?” 

“You know what?” Dani braces her hands against the table and slides her chair back. “I don’t have time for your games. I’ll speak to you again when you feel like cooperating.” She grabs his file, standing up. 

“Don’t you want to learn why I chose that spot to hurt little Malcolm, beautiful?” His comment catches her by surprise, and she turns back to him slowly, unsure if she really wants to hear the answer. 

“I chose the right half of his body for the right hand of God: our Lord, Jesus Christ,” Watkins’ eyes light up once more. “The _son.”_

Her eyes widen at first, but she catches herself and narrows them instead as she peers down at him. “This interview is terminated.” 

She has a feeling that, similar to when she initially came in, only Watkins’ eyes followed her on her way out.  
_________________ 

“You look like you just interviewed Charles Manson.” 

“Ha. Very funny,” Dani mutters to Gil as she closes the door to his office. “Somehow I think Manson would’ve been easier.” 

“What did you learn?” 

“A bunch more about his wack-ass philosophy,” Dani rolls her eyes, tossing the file on Gil’s desk and easing herself into a chair. “And... I think something else. He mentioned the Black Dahlia as an inspiration for becoming a killer; one that he and Martin apparently shared.” 

“The Avenger was believed to have been a doctor,” Gil murmurs, his gaze far away. “They thought only someone with medical skills could have done something like that." 

“Right. And so he mentioned him and Martin finding someone like the Dahlia, in their eyes at least... For an experiment." 

“The girl in the box.” His voice falls. 

“Yes.” 

“Please tell me he said she was someone to experiment _on,_ and not someone to be used in an experiment _with_ someone else.” 

They both know who that “someone else” is. 

Finally far away from Watkins, Dani allows herself at last to tremble as she reflects on the interview. She shakes in front of Gil, anxiety consuming her as she prepares to answer him. 

"He wasn't clear.” 

A knock on the door interrupts their horror; it’s Colette, a huge smile on her face. 

“Any DNA from the blanket is being processed tonight,” she announces, “and we should have the results tomorrow. Have a good evening, you two.” 

The door closes, but the room still feels cold. Cold, like they do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank Mindhunter, both the Netflix series and the book by John Douglas and Mark Olshaker, for the knowledge and inspiration as I wrote my first interrogation scene. Research pays off, I guess. Now to go watch videos of puppies and kittens on YouTube for a few hours, because even _I_ have chills from just writing this.
> 
> “Soundtrack” for this Chapter:
> 
> “Way Down We Go” – Kaleo
> 
> “Mindhunter” (The Complete Original TV Series Soundtrack) – Jason Hill


	6. 6. Sunrise and Your Sins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“'Cause I wanna touch you, baby  
>  And I wanna feel you, too  
> I wanna see the sunrise and your sins  
> Just me and you” _
> 
> -ZAYN ft. Sia, “Dusk Till Dawn”

The options rest heavy on her shoulders her whole drive back to his apartment.

To tell him that the blanket’s being tested, and hope he doesn’t feel the urge to throw himself off the roof again, or not tell him, and hope that he doesn’t feel the same urge because he’s in the dark, still unsure of his fate.

He’s gotten a bit better since that night on the roof a few days ago. He takes his meds straight away in the morning, instead of waiting until Dani leaves the drawer open, nonverbally prompting him. He works out, surprising her some mornings by doing pull-ups on the stairs. Most importantly, he _talks_ to her more, telling her about what he’s been discussing in therapy with Gabrielle, or about what he sees on the walks he takes when he’s bored, or about what they should make for dinner. She’ll take anything, any topic that helps her give an inclination of what he’s feeling.

And now he might regress, she thinks, if she chooses to ruin his night by telling him.  
_________________

The aroma of Italian food surrounds her when she opens the door to find him in the kitchen, a pan of baked ziti fresh out of the oven. She could be surprised by the fact that he’s making a hearty meal for himself, but she’s stunned by the black hoodie and dark wash jeans he’s wearing instead. She drops her keys on the island as she stares at him, wide-eyed, before erupting with laughter.

“What? _What?”_ He laughs, but he’s utterly confused.

“You own _jeans?_ Since _when?”_

He snickers. “I still fit into clothes from college, you know-” 

“And who made this hoodie? Yves Saint Laurent?” She saunters by him, tracing patterns on his back as she heads to the bathroom. “Yep, that feels like it cost $400.” 

“I made you _dinner,”_ he exclaims, “and this is what I get?” 

“Fine, you want a compliment?” She teases him from the bathroom doorway. “Those jeans make your ass look _great.”_

His face turns crimson as she shuts the door. He chuckles, shaking his head when he realizes he can still hear her laughing over the sound of the bathroom fan. 

“Don’t take too long,” he calls, “this’ll be going cold, and I have to tell you something.”  
_________________ 

Her heart’s in her throat when she comes back into the kitchen. “I have to tell you something” never ended well for her in the past... _And besides,_ she thought, _I have something I might as well tell him, too._

“You gonna eat more than a kid’s meal portion of this, by the way?” She asks as she puts some of the ziti on a plate for herself, eyeing what he’s picking at on his own. She considers sitting “You like pasta, remember?” 

He smiles sheepishly and eats a forkful. 

She sighs. “Alright, so spill, because I have something to say, too-” 

“-Wait, you do?” He interrupts. “Are we about to say the same thing?" 

“I... I doubt it. I found this out today at the precinct.” 

“Oh...” His face falls. “Well, then...” He clears his throat. “You should go first.” 

“No, Mal-” 

“Just tell me, Dani. Please.” 

She sighs. “Colette put a rush on the blanket in Watkin’s basement. They’re going to test it for DNA tonight, and have the results in tomorrow.” She places her hand over his but he doesn’t react, his gaze remaining fixed on his plate. 

“I was worried about whether or not to tell you, Malcolm, but when I heard you had something to say... I knew it wouldn’t be fair if you told me something important and I didn’t do the same in return.” 

He combs his hair back and lets out a long exhale. She rubs circles over his hand with her thumb, trying to soothe him. 

“You know I’m here no matter what happens. I am _not_ leaving you, okay? Not now, not ever.” 

He lets out an emotionless chuckle. “Yeah, speaking of that...” His voice trails off, and her brow furrows in confusion. 

“I have feelings for you, Dani.” She freezes, and he picks up on the fact that her mind’s racing. “I know- shocking, right? After I’ve let you live here for nearly three weeks, cooked you dinner almost every night, slept next to you in my bed?” He drags his palm down his face. 

“I have feelings for you too,” she blurts out, stepping closer to him. Her heart falls when he doesn’t react favorably, casting his eyes down towards his feet instead of meeting hers. 

“I wondered...” He murmured. “I’m glad. Here’s the thing, though: I don’t want you to be with me if I’m a killer. You don’t need this-” 

“What do you mean, _‘this?’_ I want all of you-” 

“If I have to stand trial, when I don’t even remember-” 

“Malcolm, I don’t _care!”_

He scoffs. “You, a cop, having a homicidal boyfriend-” 

She tries to take his hands in hers. “You’re not a killer, though-” 

“But what if I _am,_ Dani?” He jerks away from her. “Can you prove that I’m not a murderer right here, right now?" 

Halted by the weight of his words, she stays silent. Her eyes begin to well up with tears. 

“No,” she finally squeaks. 

“Oh, Dani,” he sighs when he realizes he’s made her upset, and pulls her into his arms. She cries softly against his neck, holding him like he’s the only thing preventing her from being swept out to sea. She feels him plant a kiss into her hair and wishes he was doing so under different circumstances. 

“If you could only see what I see in you,” she whimpers, “you’d know why I have so much faith in you _not_ being a murderer.” He holds her tighter and leans his head against hers in response. 

“Stay with me tonight,” he says after they’ve held each other a few minutes longer. “But if they find my DNA on that blanket tomorrow... Do me one favor, okay? Just try not to be in the precinct when they bring me in. Go on a walk for me, write down all the things you see, or try and remember them in your head. And tell me about them sometime, when you visit.” He feels her shaking her head as she begins to sob harder. “No, Dani, please. Promise me you’ll do this, okay? For me?” 

It takes her a few moments to consider it, but at last she holds back a sob and nods her head. She feels his whole body relax afterwards. 

“Thank you,” He murmurs between kisses against her hair, “thank you. You’ve been so good to me, Dani... I can never repay you.” 

_You will,_ her thoughts scream what her mouth can’t bring itself to articulate. _Someday you’ll be free from this mess, and you'll be with me, and you will._  
_________________ 

She’s so exhausted that she falls asleep minutes after her head hits her pillow. 

She wakes up at random intervals in the night, though, and through narrowed, “fake sleeping” eyes she sees that he’s awake. He’s turned over to face her, running his fingers through her hair and talking to her. 

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” she hears him whisper. “I’d give anything- _anything_ -to be with you if I could.” 

She waits until about four in the morning, when sleep finally takes him, to cry quietly against his chest.  
_________________ 

_If I was there when you woke up, you’d never leave._

_Gil knows where I am in case they have to come get me._

_You’ll be fine, no matter what happens today._

_-M_

She puts the note in the back pocket of her jeans and heads out the door.  
_________________ 

She’s shaking from the moment she turns her car on to the minute she has no choice but to put it in park at the precinct. She doesn’t want to have to go in there, listen to Colette gloat, hear anything about a warrant for his arrest. Doesn’t want to have to deal with Gil trying to comfort her, or JT looking bewildered (he probably doesn’t realize she’s been living with him all this time...or has he?), or having to go on that damn walk. She has her small notebook and pen that she uses to take notes at crime scenes on her, but she can’t bear the thought of having to write down every bird and squirrel and cute child she might spot today. 

The inside of the building’s bustling with activity, but she doesn’t once hear his name being mentioned in conversation. No one turns and gives her an odd look. 

Then she sees JT. 

“Dani!” He shouts, strutting towards her and holding up a hand. “Up top!" 

_Of course he’d be like this,_ she thinks to herself. _Glad that we’re finally rid of him._

“JT, what are we-” 

“I knew that FBI woman was crazy! Bright’s not on the blanket, or any of the other evidence at all that they collected. And the crazy son-of-a-bitch killer confessed that our boy had never done anything this morning. Now are you gonna give me five or not?” 

She gasps, springing forward to hug him. 

“O- okay then,” JT remarks in surprise, patting her a couple times on the back. “Glad you’re happy.” 

“This is perfect,” She breathes. “Where’s Gil?” 

“Dunno, but you oughta go see the shit show going on in the crime lab. Colette’s losing her shit, it’s kinda funny to watch.” 

“I will,” she gasps as she starts trotting off. “Thank you, JT!” 

“What the hell is she so high and happy about,” she hears him mutter as she takes off down the hall.  
_________________ 

“Get me the number for Claremont Psychiatric. I want to speak to Dr. Martin Whitly _immediately,_ do you hear me?” 

Between barking orders at other members of her unit and ignoring every logical point from CSU, Colette’s in a frenzy when Dani reaches the crime lab. Dani finds it honestly comical to see her so riled up-perhaps this is what she looked like the day Dani broke rank and went in search of Malcolm in the cabin. 

Once Colette realizes she’s there, her eyes burn with fury. “Detective Powell,” she growls, “I’ve been meaning to tell you-” 

“That Bright’s innocent, and you’ve spent three weeks on a wild goose chase and hurting your ankle when we could’ve been sentencing a serial killer? Yeah, I figured that out on my own. No explanation from you needed.” 

In the periphery of her vision she sees Edrisa pop out from behind a door. She had barely been involved in this case (thankfully) due to the lack of cadavers, but Dani knew she’d rallied her coworkers in CSU to do their due diligence. Edrisa waves at Dani and gives her a quick fist pump before disappearing again. 

“Powell, are you not listening to me?” She didn’t realize that Colette had marched straight over to her while she was distracted. The Special Agent had a sweating hand wrapped around Dani in a death grip. Dani wondered if Colette could feel her pulse-and, if she could, if it made her feel powerful. 

“If I find out that you helped him in _any_ way to cover his tracks, you’ll both be behind bars. I’ll re-watch the footage of you two in that basement for hours if I have to. You played yourself the second you ignored my advice and chose him." Their faces are inches apart now-interestingly, it reminds her of her interrogation with Watkins. “I hope you realize this sooner rather than later.” 

“Let _go_ of me, Special Agent,” Dani growls, heaving her wrist back. 

The two women stare each other down for a moment before Colette relinquishes her grasp on Dani. Dani leaves the FBI agent and all the drama they shared behind, without a single glance back. 

_________________ 

“Yes, I know, it’s great news.” 

Gil looks up from his office phone to see Dani in the doorway, her doe eyes overflowing with tears. 

“Can I call you back later, Jessica? I got some cop stuff to do. I’m sure you’ll hear from Malcolm-” he pauses to look up at Dani- “by the end of the day, at least.”

Gil’s barely put the phone down before Dani leaps into his arms.

“We were right,” Gil mumbles, his throat getting thick.

“We were right,” Dani affirms, “And _you_ were right, Gil. About him and I. The whole time.”

“I’m rarely ever wrong,” Gil chuckles, pulling back and grabbing Dani’s shoulders. “Go find him; I’ll text you the address. He’ll be waiting for you.”

She nods happily, and after he wipes a tear that’s racing down her cheek, she takes off.  
_________________

She finds him in Washington Market Park in Tribeca. She can spot him from a mile away from his well-tailored jacket.

They share their first kiss there. And their second, and their third, and a few more after that before they realize other people are staring. 

“I’ve waited for this for a long time,” she says breathlessly, feeling so at home with the way his hands cradle her face.

“Me too. If only you knew,” he replies, kissing her again.

She pulls back and laughs, bringing a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Well, now you can tell me. We have all the time in the world.”  
_________________

His eyes zero in on her from the end of the hallway-cold and predatory. She worries about crumpling the papers in his file because of the way it’s pressed against her chest; to him, it looks like her arms are folded, but she knows she’s really just holding herself together to keep from shaking. Gil stands at her side for moral support before she goes in for another session. He’s seemingly steady as well, but Dani can tell he’s unsettled by Watkins, too.

“Lieutenant,” The young officer escorting Watkins, barely as old as Dani, nods at Gil when both parties get closer to one another. “Detective Powell,” he nods at her too, and she gives him a quick tight-lipped smile in return.

“Richie,” Gil calls to him, keeping his eye on the young officer and off of the killer. “Thank you for helping out this morning, kid.”

“Of course. Just a second,” Richie replies, trailing behind Watkins into the interrogation room. Dani catches a glimpse of the killer grinning in her direction before the door shuts, and tries to conceal the shiver that grips her.

“I’m in the next room over,” Gil murmurs to her. “You’ll do fine, just like last time.”

“Thanks, Gil.”

“And then we’ll bust out of here so you can see how your boy’s doing.”

“Gil, not now-”

“I'm sure he's waiting at home, staring at the door with his big puppy dog eyes as we speak.”

She itches her nose with her middle finger in his direction, and Gil stifles a chuckle.

The interrogation room door swings open and Richie appears before them again, closing and locking it with force.

“Fucking scumbag,” he mutters under his breath, shoving the keys into his pocket. Regret washes over his face when the young man realizes he’s cursed in front of his superiors, but Dani smiles, dispelling his worries. “Uh- He’s all set in there, Detective Powell. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Rich; I appreciate you putting up with him for me.” She tussles his brown waves before reaching for the doorknob.

“Don’t let him get to you, Powell,” Gil encourages her. “Remember why you’re doing this, who you’re doing this for.”

She flips him off for a half second before disappearing behind the door. Gil’s concerned for her, but that final act of classic Dani defiance mollifies him.  
_________________

The room feels cold again, like it was last time. Perhaps his aura creates it. Regardless, she’s fuming, burning with contempt as she pulls up a chair and sits down. 

“Nice to see you again, beautiful,” Watkins sneers. Dani smells his breath again and holds her head higher. 

“I have no time for your games. I wanna know why.”

“Why? Why what?”

“Why you danced around the truth of what happened on that camping trip for so damn long.”

The man leans back in his chair, twiddling his thumbs. “But it wouldn’t have been the same...”

“All cops care about is justice, and getting it fast,” she retorts. “So why were you keeping us from knowing everything?”

Watkins goes silent, staring up at the ceiling when Dani remembers something.

“You said you carved Malcolm Bright up on the right side of his body, for the Right Side of God. That’s Jesus, the ‘Son.’ Did you both think Malcolm was the ‘Son’ of God too like Jesus?”

“Incredible job, beautiful. See? I knew you’d come to it on your own eventually.”

“But he wasn’t. You said he didn’t harm anyone on that camping trip, or at all for that matter.”

“No,” Watkins groans, rolling his eyes. “He’d been exposed to the light, but the coward didn’t act on it. I was ashamed, as was Martin. That’s where... The girl came in.”

“The girl that you tried to get him to hurt, but he didn’t.”

“No.”

“What did he do instead?”

Watkins remains silent.

“I’m not reading your mind for 20 minutes. I want an answer.”

Watkins whistles a song Dani’d heard only once before- “Run Rabbit Run” by Flanagan and Allen.

“No more games, Watkins,” she snarls. “What do you remember that Malcolm Bright doesn’t?”

“Maybe... The reason why we took him on the trip in the first place,” Watkins offers at last before returning to his song.

“Why was that?” Dani asks.

Watkins stops whistling, and drags his dark eyes from the ceilings to Dani’s. “To give him a _taste,”_ he sneers at her.

 _This is pointless._ Dani flings her chair back and sits up, hands on the table as she tries to tower over an otherwise-imposing man sitting in a chair. “Well it didn’t work,” she remarks. “He realized you were giving him poison before he even took a sip.” She’s at the door now, staring back at him while-for once-stares ahead at the wall. “This interview is terminated. Goodbye, Watkins.”

Both Gil and Richie try and chase her down the hallway, but she has no time for them. “Just let me go home,” she pleads, “I’ve had enough misery the last... four weeks, now? The time since Bright was vindicated hasn’t been nearly enough. Just give me the tiniest bit of headspace where I don’t have to think about it.”

With the file on Gil’s desk and her keys and coat retrieved from the locker room, she goes straight home-to her boyfriend, to the apartment they’re considering freeing up space in to house more of her belongings, to the parakeet they now co-parent. 

For once, her world’s coming back together, rather than falling apart.  
_________________

“Dani?”

His voice makes her perk up from her phone to see him at the threshold of Gabrielle’s office. The hour’s passed, and he’s ready to leave. 

As she gathers her stuff and follows him out, she notices Gabrielle standing in the waiting room, smiling wider than Dani thinks she’s ever seen a therapist do before.

When she gets in the car and clips in her seatbelt, she notices he doesn’t do the same, turning to stare at her instead.

“What?” She asks, confused and slightly agitated. “Put your seatbelt on.”

“I remembered the missing pieces of the camping trip.”

Dani unclips her seatbelt, shifting her body to mirror his posture. “And?”

“My dad tried to get me to stab that poor girl...” Malcolm plays with his nails. “I wriggled my way out of his arms, took off into the forest with the knife still in my hand. I heard Watkins and my dad searching for me, but my dad didn’t find me until the late evening.” 

“Malcolm...” Dani strokes his arm. “That’s still awfully traumatic.”

“I know... But do you wanna know what would’ve been worse?”

“What?” She blinks.

“Gabrielle and I realized today that the blanket definitely never had any DNA on it from when I was a child... But it could’ve had my DNA on it when I was an adult, because I was reaching for it in Watkins’ basement.”

She cocks her head. “Okay, but I don’t understand-”

“It could’ve had my DNA on it if you’d let me grab the blanket when I was in the basement. But you wouldn’t let me, remember? You kept fighting me, trying to see what was wrong with me. Trying to keep me alive, in more ways than one.”

She’s speechless, both before and after he kisses her.

“You saved me.”  
_________________

_– 2 ½ Years Later –_

She’s had to stay at home today. She finally caught the flu that all of them had-first Gil, then Malcolm, JT, Edrisa, and finally Dani. Malcolm knew she’d had it pretty bad, that she sometimes slept on the bathroom floor using towels as pillows and blankets (much to his amusement), but no one was tougher than her-he knew this firsthand.

To his surprise when he enters their apartment, his wife has resurfaced from her newfound lair. She waits for him, arms folded as she leans against the kitchen counter, looking drained and sick but... a bit amused as well, for some reason?

“Why are you giving me that face?” He asks, shrugging his coat off. “Did my mother stop by and terrorize you today?”

“Nope,” Dani replies, “but your sister did. She brought me something.”

“Was it sou-” he starts before she flits over to meet him, shoving a strange tube she was hiding between her arms into his palm.

Only it wasn’t a tube. Malcolm knew these were called “sticks.”

It was a pregnancy stick.

With the words “PREGNANT” in big, bold letters on a screen.

His ice blue eyes become thick and cloudy with tears. “Dani...” He can barely speak.

“The night before you thought you were going to be arrested during the Watkins case,” Dani murmurs reflectively, “you said you could never repay me for all that I’d done for you. And I didn’t want to say it out loud, because you were as stubborn then as you are now, but I wanted to tell you that someday this would all be over, and you’d be with me, and you’d be able to pay me back.”

“Well,” she continues, putting her hand over the one of his that held the stick, “Daddy, meet ‘Payback.’ And ‘Payback,’ meet Daddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this story. It has, by far, been one of my favorites to write.
> 
> “Soundtrack” for this chapter:
> 
> “Dusk till Dawn” – ZAYN, Sia
> 
> “Show Me What I’m Looking For” – Carolina Liar
> 
> “The Weight of Us” – Sanders Bohlke
> 
> “St. Clarity” – The Paper Kites
> 
> “Family Tree” – Matthew West
> 
> “From the Wreckage Build a Home” – The Wind and the Wave

**Author's Note:**

> I gave myself the challenge of trying to publish this entire story within the night, if not within 24 hours... Let’s see if I can do it. Chapter 2 should be posted in a few hours from this upload time.
> 
> EDIT: This work will be finished when it's finished. Thank you all for being patient.
> 
> P.S. Hope you enjoyed the Easter Egg I left you in Chapter 1, @PrettyButt :]


End file.
